The Turner Diaries Audiobook Novels & Stories

“Uh-huh. They’re all over the place. Hiding places in case another kingdom invades.” “Did you know that the room behind the bookcase is full of hunters’ diaries?” Suddenly, I’m wide awake. I did not know that part. “What?” “Yeah. We can’t read most of them, they’re written in Latin and Middle English.” “Then how do you know they’re hunter diaries? “The internet is a wonderful place full of information. We’ve been able to translate parts of the diaries.”

All life was sacred. I shook the thoughts away with a violent shake of my head. I couldn’t change the past, but I could control the future. I needed to do something right. I leaned forward, tapping the partition. “Taylor. The books.” He didn’t need to ask which ones. He’d been silent, a perfect, loyal shadow, but he indicated the cubby beneath my seat with a subtle gesture. I nodded and leaned down, pulling out three leatherbound novels—one black, one brown, one gold. The diaries of my ancestors, disguised as fiction. A perfect way to introduce our world to her. I ran my thumb over the embossed spines, a silent promise, just as Taylor slowed the car and we pulled up to her house.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, but Chloe barely heard it. The new house felt strangely alive around her, boxes stacked, curtains half-drawn, air thick with silence. Yet in her hands, the diary pulsed with voices that weren’t hers, carrying her from one life to another. She turned the page. The handwriting curved across the top in bold strokes: “Episode 3 – The Office After Hours.” Chloe’s pulse quickened. She leaned closer and began to read.

I only knew who they were by scent because I didn’t bother to look in their direction. That doesn’t stop me either though as I put my claws at his stomach and slowly dig in, “Maybe you’re the one who should watch the way you talk to a Turned wolf,” my claws slip deeper and deeper but he doesn’t so much as flex his abs. “Especially when you have no information on them,” he still doesn’t move an inch the whole time as I retract my claws and scape upwards a bit. I didn’t go too deep, he’ll heal in seconds from what I’ve learned from Star.

Without wasting another second, I hurriedly tore off the brown wrapping paper. What I found inside made my heart stop. It was a brown leather book. My fingers ran over the smooth cover, a strange sense of familiarity came over me. Had I seen this before? My eyes trailed to the bottom left corner, where two initials were engraved in gold. “RT.” The moment I saw those letters, a shiver ran down my spine. RT—Richard Turner. My father. I flipped open the book, my breath hitching when I saw his handwriting. My father’s diary.

He picked it up and frowned at the shape of the book. When he opened it, he found that it was Audrey's diary. He closed it and put it back, feeling presumptuous to read it. However, when he stood up and was about to leave the place, curiosity stopped his body. Daniel sat down again and picked up the book carefully. Now he carried the book to the bed and opened it. At first, Daniel smiled reading the contents of Audrey's diary, but then the smile disappeared when he read a page that had a surprising fact on it.

"Finish your purpose." Terren’s body was suddenly jerked upright like a puppet. His eyes turned violet, and he let out a bone-chilling howl—the howl of a wolf whose soul had been replaced by a demon. He lunged at Audrey, his claws extended. "ELARA, GO!" Audrey screamed, throwing the diary toward her. "GET THE BOOK TO THE ALTAR!"

For the next week, I treated Dante coldly. He thought I was just angry about his past actions and would get over it in a few days. But when I threw away his gifts for the seventh time, he finally lost some patience and gave me a cold stare. "Enough, Elena. My patience isn't endless." I didn't have the energy to argue with him. The FBI's surprise audit notice arrived, and it looked like I'd be swamped from now on. But then, during dinner, Dante pushed a pristine Hermès Birkin bag towards me.

Elliot had never been that sweet and caring. Elliot sent me a furious text, [Wendy, what are you up to! Why are you getting so cozy with my brother?! I'm warning you, think about the baby you're carrying. Don't go overboard! Don't do something dumb just because you're mad about a ring!] I frowned and turned off my phone. Someone needed to tell him that I was not going to marry him, and my child would not call him dad. Just then, Byron stood up, glass in hand, and said, "Today, I gathered you all here to share two big pieces of news. The first is about my oldest son. Starting today, he's officially moving back home from abroad."

Dear Diary, I’ve decided to keep a book recording all my days here at High Hill, should make pleasant reading in the future! Well, let’s start with the basics. I’m Gabriel; surname’s irrelevant as I’d rather not link myself to my parents. I’m 15; average height, wavy mousey brown hair, hazel brown eyes, and I’ve just arrived on my first day here. My parents sent me here because apparently public school isn’t good enough for me. But the reason they don’t know is that my parents would rather not have a son like me around them, snobbish twats. I’m just not good enough for them because I’m gay... Oh yes, did I not mention, I’m gay...and single... and full of a house with lots of boys in it. Oh b